Stronger Than You'll Ever Know
by IAmKayDubs
Summary: Everything seems alright with Arthur, but of course, it's quite easy to hide things. When Alfred stumbles upon a poem written by Arthur himself, with less than cheerful things to say, Alfred becomes worried. Arthur finds him, and it all spirals down and down. Arthur knows he must do whatever it takes to help himself, but it takes great strength to do so. But he's willing to try.


*Note* the poem featured in this is called Hands by Erick Humphrey

Also, I wanted to make it clear that Arthur and Alfred live in separate homes, but they sleep at each others houses quite often. The house Alfred is searching at the beginning is Arthur's house.

Alright! Enjoy!

* * *

_"Where could he be?"_ I wonder, as I search the little house. I've looked everywhere, and I've called for him, but I can't find him.

I decide to check the bedroom.

I open the door and find nobody.

I frown. It was probably nothing, but it still feels odd that Arthur would just leave without saying anything.

I sit down on the bed and sigh. Maybe I should just take a nap...

I roll over flat on the bed and place my arms behind my head. I feel something crinkle beneath the pillow. I sit up and look at it curiously. This is Arthur's side of the bed... what's under his pillow?

I lift it up and find nothing. I hear the crinkling again, and I realize it's coming from INSIDE the pillow. I look inside and pull out a tiny slip of paper that is folded up many times.

I open it slowly and look it over. It seems to be a poem, scribbled in handwriting messier than Arthur's.

I read the first few words and began to frown. This poem was... Not cheerful or happy.

The words I found on the page broke my heart.

I held the sheet of paper in my shaking hands and scanned it over and over again.

_In desperation I search, trying to find myself I look._  
_I search and search, for my heart is lost I search._  
_Too scared to run too scared to move._  
_Paralyzed by pain and fear I search._  
_I fight to live as I stager at the pain._  
_I sit beside me staring at what I see. _  
_I shake my head at what I made me._  
_I fight to not listen at the pain I created._  
_The pain I will always see._  
_As I twitch in emptiness my eyes begin to see._  
_The more they find the more it hurts._  
_They look at me as a piece of meat._  
_Trembling legs, week arms, and scars from defeat._  
_I fight my self because of what I see._  
_It's me I'm looking at and me that won't succeed._  
_I stare and look, searching for answers, for that I concede. _  
_I shred my self and my sole with my eyes._  
_They are too strong for me for that I am paralyzed._  
_I see my hands as the grasper of pain. _  
_They are the retriever of all I have received from me._  
_As my hands fight back I see._  
_I am only what I want to be, and I still have a chance to defeat me._

I pale, feeling worse and worse as I keep reading.

Does he really feel this way?

Is he in this much pain...?

Have I not done enough?

I hear a door open and then slam, and I look up. Arthur stands in the bedroom doorway.

He stands still for a moment, before looking at the paper in my hands and growing angry... No, furious.

I've never seen him so angry at me. He sprints towards me and snatches the paper away. He nearly leaps back and holds the paper to his chest.

"Arthur... Why...? Are you okay?"

"You shouldn't have touched this! It's mine, not yours."

"I hadn't known when I found it. I didn't know what it was, so I read it. I'm sorry, but... Arthur... This is..."

"Stop. Don't go on, don't talk about it."

"But, Arthur...! If you need help, you need to tell me. I want to help..."

"I don't need any help! Leave it alone!"

"I can't!" I stand up and step closer to Arthur. Something is hurting him, and I want to know what. "Everything has seemed fine recently... What's wrong... Please tell me."

"Nothing is wrong, Alfred!" Arthur shouts. "It's fine. Just forget you saw that poem and let's move on."

"I can't forget that. You're in pain and I know it, Arthur. Please, babe. Just let me help."

"I'm fine!" He shouts, even more ferociously than before. "Just stop!"

I can't respond, because I feel a fist collide with my face. I feel the stinging pain and I reel back, staring at Arthur with a horrified look.

He looks just as stricken. His eyes have gone wide and his mouth hangs open a bit in shock. "Alfred..." He whispers hoarsely.

I can't say anything. Some sort of fear drives me right out of the room and to my car. I drive away, and I don't look back.

* * *

I don't contact Arthur for over a week after that. When I do contact him after about nine days, it's because I'm way too worried about his well being to keep away any longer.

I dial his number and hold the phone shakily to my ear. I wait for three rings before he finally picks up.

His voice sounds dry and not nearly as passionate as it usually does.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me... Alfred..."

"Hey, Alfred... I'm... I'm so..." He chokes a bit "I'm sorry. Okay? I'm screwed up in the head and I made a stupid mistake."

"It's fine, I'm over it. I'm not worried about my face, Arthur, I'm worried about you."

"I don't know why. All I've ever done is hurt you and slow you down."

"You stop that. I want to help, but you can't even help yourself if you put yourself down."

"Fine. Sorry." Arthur resigns, that's very unlike him.

"What happened? What brought on that poem?"

He sighs, and it crackles through the phone. "I'd been feeling worse and worse for weeks, because of stress from work and other things in life, and I didn't want to worry you, so I started going to a therapist to see if it would help. I've been going for over a month now, but it hasn't done much. That poem came out one night when you weren't home and I felt terrible..." Arthur's voice progressively becomes more choked up. "When I came home that day and saw you'd found it... I panicked, because I was afraid it would change what you thought of me. It caused me to act out of character... I'm so sorry."

"Oh... Arthur... Why didn't you tell me any of that before? I would have gladly helped..."

"I don't know. I was stupid." Arthur sighs heavily, and I hear true guilt lingering in his voice.

"Don't say that..." I murmur. "I... What should we do? I want to help you in any way I can..."

"I'll tell you what..." Arthur starts. "I'm going to get more help. I'm going to try and get everything straight in my life and get it back to the way it used to be. However, I'm going to do that on my own, because I need to learn how to be strong on my own again." Arthur begins to sound more relaxed, and more passionate. "But I promise, as soon as I've gotten everything together, I'm going to contact you, and we can be happy again... Together. Is that a deal?"

I feel a small pang of hurt in my chest. Being without Arthur after dating him for over a year was going to be a struggle, but I've always promised him and myself that I would do whatever it takes for him to be happy, even if it meant me being hurt, or me being out of the picture.

I nod, even though I know he can't see. "Yes. If you can be happy, that's all that matters. Be safe, get whatever help you need. I'll wait." I smile softly. "I love you... Please know that, if nothing else. I just want you to be happy."

"Thank you... I love you..."

And Arthur hung up the phone.

* * *

It is quite along time before I hear anything from Arthur.

A month passes, and not a word comes from or about him. I know these things take time, but I've always been impatient.

Two more months drift by, and fall is begging to come into place. The leaves change, and they tumble across the ground, carried by the wind. Some days I feel chilly, and I expect to feel a warm body walking beside me, but instead there is no one.

Eventually, it's been over six months since Arthur has spoken to me, and it's December. That's clear enough by the raging snowstorm and the bare trees.

I lay curled up on the couch, the fire roaring mightily, and some show playing on tv that I can't bother to pay attention to.

I hear a heavy knock on the door. I stand up, curious to know who would be here in the snow.

I open the door and feel a familiar warmth collapse into me, hugging me tightly.

Arthur...

He's back.

I hug him back tightly, my head resting on his, and my hands holding his jacket tightly. I shut the door behind us and stare into green irises, which are so familiar, and so, so beautiful.

He gives a soft smile.

"I made it..." He breaths out. "It will take a bit of work to keep everything in balance, but I'll do it."

I smile right back. I'm so proud of him... He's so much stronger than he knows.

* * *

A/N: Hello there, lovely readers! More UsUk, and more sadness/angst.

Also, I'm hoping I made it clear enough, but Arthur began noticing signs of depression in himself, so he went to therapy. Eventually, it got a bit worse, and that caused him to act out of character. He decided then that he needed to get things straightened out in his life, and he needed to try to ease his depression. After a while, he was successful in this, but he knew it wasn't gone forever, but he was willing to keep up with whatever he needed to do in order to help himself.

This story was loosely based on a prompt from otpprompts. The prompt was about one person finding a tragic poem written by the other that talked about hating life. I decided to expand it a bit more and add on to the story to make it a longer plot rather than just a quickie!

All in all, I hope you enjoyed this story.

-KayDubs


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